The pain I feel is nothing to the pain I bear
by Dogedoos
Summary: The young man all but collapsed into a quivering heap on the floor. His thick robes were soaked through with rain water, and something much more sinister – blood.


_Disclaimer: Don't own, JK does, no money made, just felt like writing! A Special halloween update! Severus comes back from a DE attack..._

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The doors to the Great hall bust open, allowing the vicious, ripping winds to whip trough the building, extinguishing the candles on their travels. The hissing sound of rain could be heard in the background, accompanying the rattling cough of the bedraggled man, who was gripping the strong, stone archway for support.

Shaking his curtain of sopping wet hair out of his eyes, he stumbled clumsily into the building, slowly closing the door, and exhausting himself of the little strength remaining.

The young man all but collapsed into a quivering heap on the floor. His thick robes were soaked through with rain water, and something much more sinister – blood. Blood of innocent people who he and his 'friends' had been sent to kill.

His inner garments were ruined, that much was obvious if his protective Death Eater robes were anything to compare them with. Hex marks, rips, dirt and tares adorned the thick material, his usually impeccable shoes now bore marks from the attack he had narrowly escaped from. And his usually pale face had taken on a grey tint, and was supporting a crumbling expression.

Violent shivers ran through his body once again, as he squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip and drawing blood. It dripped down his chin, mingling with the rainwater, dripping from his hair, and the large amount of blood which was slowly drying from a head wound.

The one feature that held any reference to his usual demeanor was the two glittering, obsidian eyes, quickly darting here and there as if to reassure him that he was alone.

As the shivers eased, he took a few large gulps of air, before a fresh wave of coughing racked his thin frame. Minutes ticked by, and yet he sat in the same place he had collapsed, a puddle of unspeakable mess spreading out from him. After the coughing had ceased, the young man buried his face in his hands, desperately trying to rid himself of the tormenting images rising in his mind. He combed one hand through his long, black hair, trying to untangle the stubborn knots, made even more so, by the dried blood. The task was proving an impossible one, and as he ripped his hand away, he was overcome with another bout of shivers and twitching.

Time passed slowly as he sat there on the stone cold floor, absorbed in his self loathing and despair, welcoming every wave of pain, yet dreading the fact that he would have to haul himself down to the dungeons soon, lest some gallivanting student come across him.

Glancing at his wand, clutched tightly in his right hand, the young man – Severus quickly dispelled what its' use had been not more than a couple of hours ago, and banished any traces of his presence by the door, then, summoning his last reserves of strength, Severus hoisted himself off the ground and made his way down to his quarters in the dungeons.

His limbs screamed in protest, whist dull aches sparked back into life, creating a sharp stabbing sensation in his left leg and back. Tripping frequently, and falling down the last few steps of the stairs, Severus finally reached his rooms. Barely able to raise his arm, he tapped a sequence of bricks n quick succession, a whole section of the dungeon wall slid back to admit him. It sealed itself back, once he had entered.

Instantly summoning a potion he had prepared for his return, Severus gulped it down, allowing it to ease some of the latter effects of the Cruciatus curse. Slowly adapting to the pain he was feeling, Severus limped through the rooms, throwing off his ruined cloak to see the damage that he had encountered with the Aurors this time. The mask that he had ripped off once apparating into the Hogwarts Grounds was still clenched in his (slightly shaking) left hand, but was quickly thrown across the room, as it was no longer white, but red. His blood, mingling with his victims, smeared across it.

Tearing his sharp eyes away from the mask, Severus glanced across the room, to a large mirror. He hauled himself infront of it, and nearly lost his footing in surprise.

An Auror, presumable Alastor (Mad-eye) Moody had sent a rather nasty curse his way, which he had been lucky enough to dodge, but he had been considerably closer to the spell than he previously thought, as it had penetrated his inner and outer robes and his frock coat. His shirt, could been seen poking through a tear in the fabric and it was slowly morphing into a shocking crimson colour. Obviously his shoulder had taken the blow.

Next was obviously the work of Shacklebolt, as he was famous for favoring hexes which conjured fire. One of Severus' legs had been subjected to a pyros' dream, catching fire in the middle of a duel. Luckily t hadn't caused any damage due to the sheer amount of rain. He had been lucky this time.

Lastly, it had been Scrimgeour who had Crucio'd him, just as he had apparated, the curse continually doing its' job until he had passed the school gates, and even then, the after effects were still being felt.

Studying himself, Severus concluded that he had been lucky this time. He looked nowhere near as bad as he had done returning from raids and attacks during his first two months inn the Dark Lords' service.

His head wound and his injured shoulder were the only serous wounds which he had received, nothing could be done for the curio effects.

His clothes portrayed him far worse than he actually was. God forbid if Poppy saw him…

Severus proceeded to remove his outer garments; his cloak and frock coat dropping to the floor, so that only the thin, white shirt and pants remained on his thin body.

Quietly muttering a silent healing charm, whilst directing his wand at his shoulder, Severus quickly solved _that_ injury, and proceeded to do the same to his temple, pausing momentarily, as he gave another violent shudder.

It was like this after every attack. The Dark Lord would order his Death eaters to attack a target to show the Wizarding world he was capable of. If the target was a wizard, there were usually a good few spells flying through the air before he could be contained. If the target was a muggle like tonight, then the actual murder would be very simple, but as it was in a muggle area, the magic used would send a signal to the Ministry, especially an Unforgivable. Aurors would be sent, and a showdown would occur. Severus had escaped relatively unscathed compared to some of his group, escaping through the genius of one of his own spells. Two of the Aurors would be in St Mungos for months.

Looking intently at his reflection, Severus couldn't tell if it was his victims' blood that was caked in his hair, couldn't tell if his shaking hands were due to the Cruciatus or his own nerves, couldn't tell how much longer he'd last.

Sighing, he moved away from the mirror, to the bathroom, intent that he'd clean himself up sometime tonight.

Turning the taps, he quickly ran the bathwater, as he waited, his senses lulling with exhaustion. Once the water had reached the acceptable level, Severus removed the rest of his clothes and sank into the clear liquid, willing it to cleanse him of all his evil doings of the past.

Memories rose up, like smoke though the air. The woman's screams as she watched her husband brutally murdered, then seeing a flash of green light, as her own death swooped towards her. The two bodies were set alight before the death Eaters turned on the children. It was here were Severus had had enough, and had attempted to stop the attack. He had used the excuse that the Ministry were on their way.

Severus had ordered the Death Eaters to disapperated, but dear old Nott wouldn't have it. He had convinced many of the group to remain, before turning his wand on the infants casting two of the three Unforgivables. Much to his dismay, he found that Severus had been right in saying that the ministry where 'on their way,' and a duel had ensued. Karkaroff and Crabbe barely escaping with their heads, never mind their lives.

Dolohov had taken out one of the Aurors before disapperating, and Goyle three. The dark Lord must have been satisfied with the job, as he had not summoned the Death Eaters again.

Severus must have remained in the bath for at least a couple of hours, because when he dragged himself out of his memories, the water had turned cold. Releasing the tainted liquid, and changing into a white nightshirt, Severus slowly walked through to his bedroom, ignoring the discarded clothing littering his floor.

He collapsed into bed, a small collection of shivers running through him before he pulled the covers tightly around himself and instantly falling asleep, as the morning sun began to rise, illuminating the sheet of rain falling over Hogwarts. His mind, trapped in a never-ending cycle of nightmares.

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Reviews are welcome. ;


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